


Perfect

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aftercare, Banter, Bondage, F/F, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Spanking, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha's been flirting with Shepard again. Miranda calls her in for an attitude adjustment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the kink meme:
> 
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=44281243#t44281243

“I,” said Miranda, swinging her hand sharply.

“Mmhah!” replied Samantha, exhaling suddenly around the gag that filled her mouth and forced her to drool unbecomingly on the floor of the hotel room.

“Did not,” Miranda continued.

“Nnnhmm!” cried Samantha, tears coming to her eyes as Miranda's crop stung her on her naked buttocks.

“Bring Shepard,” said Miranda, with a flick of her wrist.

“Unnmh!” Samantha was unable to stop herself from responding to the sudden, sharp pain.

“Back.” 

“Mmmh!” 

“From the dead.” 

“Ahmmhh!” 

“So that she could.” 

“Mrrrhnn!” 

“Be sullied by.” 

“Nnnnn!” 

“Some grotty.” 

“Annnh!” 

“Little.” 

“Annnnnnnnh!” 

“Grunt!” 

“Aaaaaannnnnhhnhnhn!”

Miranda inspected her handiwork. The sequence of gradually more powerful spanks she had administered with her short crop had left a perfect geometric pattern of red weals on Samantha's chocolate-brown buttocks. They'd sting for a few days, but wouldn't leave any permanent marks. Viewed from directly behind, they made a perfect M shape, the vee of which pointed to Samantha's little puckered hole. A potent reminder, should Samantha forget herself again, that there would be consequences for flagrant behaviour.

Samantha sagged in her restraints. Miranda had her bent over a hotel desk to take her punishment, her feet spread apart and immobilised, her arms pulled away in front of her and tied down. Miranda stepped around to the front of the desk and took Samantha's chin between her thumb and forefinger, lifting her head up. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“The idea,” began Miranda, in a low, sinister voice, “that Commander Shepard, savior of the Citadel, the greatest living human, would be interested in anything less than perfection...”

Samantha blinked her big beautiful eyes, her mournful expression diluted by the gag occupying the lower half of her face, but powerfully cute nonetheless. Miranda let out a small cry of frustration and let go of her chin. “You infuriating tart!” she cried. “That won't work on me! I eat Communications Specialists for breakfast!”

Miranda threw her crop aside in disgust, folding her arms across the chest of her skintight black catsuit. She strode over to the window, standing before it with a straight back, her feet slightly apart. She contemplated the view. Skycars zoomed past above and fountains burbled in the distance below. Another beautiful day on the Citadel. She turned back to the task at hand.

Samantha had tilted her head sideways just a little. Her tears had dried. Her gaze drifted up to meet Miranda's face, lingering over the curve of her chest. “Were you staring at my arse?” And was she smirking behind that gag?

Miranda realised her mistake. Samantha's pride was wrapped up in her intelligence. Pain might break her, but it would never deliver the humiliation that she so richly deserved. For _flirting_ with Shepard, as if the Commander could be distracted like some giddy schoolgirl. There ought to be a _law_.

Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Shepard barely knows you exist,” she said, running a finger down Samantha's naked spine as she walked around the desk. Samantha's back arched a little under the delicate touch. “But let's suppose you caught her eye. Let's say she dallied with you. Do you think it would last? When she can have _this_ anytime she wants?” Miranda stood before her, sweeping an arm dramatically to indicate the full scope of her many prodigious assets. “When she can have _perfection_?”

Samantha raised one eyebrow, just a fraction. It might have been nothing but a tic. Miranda's cheeks flushed pink. “Cocky, aren't you?” she said. “But look where cocky gets you. Tied up and _spanked_.”

Miranda wandered into the space behind the desk, pacing the room. “I suppose you think you're quite charming, don't you?” she asked conversationally. “The whole precious little player act. The know-all who likes a taste of danger. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure it's quite effective in the company you normally keep. But you've bitten off more than you can chew if you think Shepard'll be satisfied with a girl who can't even breathe without a note from her doctor.”

She approached Samantha again, leaning in close to whisper to her. “I mean, do you have any idea what it would be like, making love to Shepard? How powerful she is? She'd break you like a twig.” Miranda traced the outline of Samantha's collarbone. “She'd snap your delicate little neck, like a cat when she's bored with her mouse.”

Samantha's breathing grew heavier, her nostrils flaring. She turned her head away from Miranda's lips, but she couldn't go far. “All her cybernetics, her upgrades. She'd crush you.” Miranda stroked down her back again, running a finger down the cleft between her cheeks. “Burst you open.” 

Miranda tested the state of Samantha's sex, bringing a wet finger up to her nose to examine. “She wouldn't mean to, of course.” She presented her finger to Samantha, wiping it on her cheek. “You wouldn't mind, though, would you? You're that selfish. That controlled by your dumb little hormones. You'd like to die for her, wouldn't you?”

Samantha was squirming against her bonds, trying to get her ears away from Miranda's mendacious whispers. “Have you any idea what that would do to her?” she asked. “How that would make her feel?”

Miranda parted Samantha's folds and dipped a finger inside her. She used it to punctuate her next statement, tugging on Samantha's inside walls. Her voice grew throatier and more menacing. “You'd send her into battle with your blood on her conscience?”

Samantha moaned around the gag. Miranda slid another finger inside her, and used her thumb to apply rhythmic pressure to her asshole. “But it won't come to that, will it?” she said. “Because you're my little toy now. When you see her, you'll always think of me.”

Miranda sought out Samantha's clit and brushed it lightly. “When you're touching yourself in your bunk, you know, just after you've had your shower...” Samantha made an interrogative sound and tried to twist her head around to face Miranda this time. “Oh, yes,” Miranda laughed. “I see _everything_. I've got _quite_ the file on you. Did you know that Campbell and Westmoreland take bets on how many times you'll go every night?”

Samantha made a little noise. She bonked her forehead gently on the desk. Miranda squeezed her sex firmly with her hand and Samantha arched her back and pulled her head up again, groaning around the gag. “When you're touching yourself, you'll think about me. Watching you. How easy it is for me to control you.” Miranda lowered her voice even further, hissing gently right into Samantha's ear, her hot breath tickling. “When you see Shepard, you'll remember that _I_ made her what she is. You'll get wet, but it'll be for _me_. I'm the one pulling the strings. You'll beg me to pull yours.”

Miranda started twisting her hand around, expanding the area of her attack, squeezing and thrusting and firmly engaging with Samantha's clitoris. “And you won't dare to flirt with her again. Because she belongs to _me_. I don't care that she saved you and your boring little family, she's my bloody hero and she's going to come back for _me_ , not some weak. Little. Nerd.” Miranda punctuated her last words with heavy thrusts of her hand, applying firm pressure to the vulnerable points that she had divined, using Samantha's groans and movements to map them.

It wasn't enough. Miranda continued. “Who. Can't. Control. Her. Own. Pussy.”

And indeed, Samantha was grinding herself towards Miranda's hand with as much force as her restrained position allowed, her eyes screwed shut with concentration, any semblance of resistance or humour erased.

Miranda stopped suddenly, her hand freezing in position. Samantha whined through her nose and jerked her hips in desperation. “You'll never flirt with her again, will you, Samantha?”

Samantha shook her head dramatically, making some noise that could have been a long drawn out negative muffled by her gag.

“And you'll only think about me when you jill off from now on?”

This time she nodded so hard she struck her chin on the desk, and her muffled affirmative was cut off. Tears came to her eyes. Miranda quickly tucked a hand between Samantha's chin and the desk, and gave her the final few thrusts between the legs that she needed.

Samantha made a high-pitched sound as she came. Miranda made sure that she didn't hurt herself as her muscles tightened and she strained at her bonds.

Eventually it was over, and Miranda untied her, helping her to perch carefully on the edge of the bed. Samantha kept her back straight, trying to keep pressure off her behind. She reached tentatively around to probe the stinging welts on her rear end, wincing slightly as she made contact. “Campbell and Westmoreland?” she asked. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Miranda assured her. “You should ask them if all the pat-downs are really necessary, too.”

Samantha balled up her fists. “Ooh!” she exclaimed. “Just wait until I get my hands on those sneaks...”

“What're you going to do?” asked Miranda archly. “Bore them to death?”

Samantha's shoulders slumped, then she jumped as she forgot about her sore bottom and it made firmer contact with the bed. “You could place a bet for me, then,” she suggested with a gleam in her eye. “The fix is in, after all.”

“That's more your speed, I think,” said Miranda. “Assuming you have enough self-control.” She let a finger drift across Samantha's chest, just under her breasts. They stiffened in response.

“Well, judging by how I had you wrapped around my little finger just now,” Samantha said, “I think I can manage to restrain myself.”

Miranda snorted in amusement. Then she leaned in close, pressing her slick catsuit against Samantha's bare flesh. With her eyes downcast, she whispered breathily. “Are you quite sure?” She let her moist lips touch Samantha's, let her tongue dance briefly against her teeth before withdrawing.

“Yes,” Samantha croaked, her throat suddenly dry. “Quite. But just in case.” She let her hand slip behind Miranda's neck, and pulled her back in to continue the kiss.

Miranda pushed her away after a long minute. “You should really be getting back,” she said. “Shepard'll be missing you.”

“Shepard this, Shepard that,” replied Samantha lightly. “Anyone would think you have a crush on her.” She closed her fingers around the zipper pull of Miranda's jacket and tugged gently.

“I can't stand it when you flirt with her,” Miranda said, as Samantha unzipped her slowly.

“I flirt with everybody,” Samantha replied, taking Miranda's cheek in her hand. “You're the only one I let spank me.”

“ _Promise_ me,” said Miranda, urgently, her eyes pleading.

“Uh-uh,” Samantha replied. “Trust me.” She pushed at Miranda with her skinny geek arms but wasn't at all surprised when she fell backwards onto the bed, her jacket hanging open and her pale flesh exposed. Samantha straddled her hips and looked down upon her conquest. She leaned forward slowly, bringing her skin into contact with Miranda's, pressing herself down into her firmness. “I don't know why you're even worried,” she said. “You're so...”

The last word, whispered softly into Miranda's ear, made her close her eyes, bite her lip and squeeze Samantha tightly.

“ _Perfect_.”


End file.
